Indecent Exposure
by angelically-devilish
Summary: WINNER OF THE TWIN EXCHANGE AUGUST 2009 CHALLENGE! It reminded her of seventh year. Ron always had issues of Playwizard & Harry sometimes needed firewhiskey to sleep, so she was essentially where she was now-surrounded by halfnaked men, porn and alcohol


**A/N:** I know, I know, I shouldn't be posting this because I have been abysmally lax with my updates for _Playing the Players_, but this is my submission for the Twin Exchange August Challenge, so bear with me because there's an actual deadline on this thing.

**Theme:** Ginny Weasley, born on August 11, 1981

**Prompt:** Diagon Alley

**Pairing:** Remus/Hermione

**Quote:** "What is that smell?"

I would like to dedicate this fic to _GrandeVanillaSkimLatte_ for her undying support and stunning motivational techniques (everything from virtual cookies to a mental slap) to get this written and submitted on time.

* * *

**Indecent Exposure**

The garish orange and purple store front of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes stood out like a brightly-colored sore thumb against the mellow earth-tones of the other Diagon Alley stores. Hermione Granger was certain the ginger-headed proprietors had chosen such eye-poppingly tacky colors for just that purpose, so as to attract customers to the place she currently – as she stalked down the bustling cobblestone streets – thought of as the most utterly useless waste of space in the entire wizarding world.

All eyes flew to her as Hermione stormed into the shop, her hazel eyes focused with a fierce single-mindedness upon the twin mischief-makers behind the counter. They both looked extremely worried as Hermione's wild, wind-swept honey-brown hair seemed to add to the aura of unrestrained insanity she exuded. The twins knew better than to assume the petite woman had simply lost her mind, however. Sharing a look, they both came to the same – and admittedly potentially deadly – conclusion.

Hermione Granger was royally pissed off.

"Miss Granger!" Fred said in an overly-dramatic display of civility that he knew his younger friend could see right through.

"So _good_ of you to _stomp_ into our place of _business_," George added, earning him an icy glare from the brilliant witch and a less-than-gentle nudge from his slightly-more tactful brother.

"You two," she growled, taking them both by the ear. "Upstairs with me. Now."

"Verity!" Fred shouted to the petite blonde who had been watching the proceedings with growing amusement. "Up front, if you please!"

"Ow...ow...ow...._OW_!" George said pointedly as Hermione marched them - unapologetically - up the stairs to the flat they shared above the shop. Letting go of their pinched earlobes, she allowed them to recover as she stood, hands on her hips, in front of them.

"So...what did we do now?" Fred asked, rubbing his ear.

"You'd think - only having one ear - I might have gotten out of risking the other one," George commented darkly, stepping as far away from the angry witch as possible.

"You're lucky I didn't just hex the good one off, considering how little you use it," she snapped, crossing her arms across her chest.

"Granger, this will all go infinitely faster if you just tell us what we did wrong so we might deny it vehemently before giving in and apologizing," Fred said with a sigh, sitting on an overturned bucket.

She took a slow step toward them, her eyes still shooting daggers.

"Did I, or did I not, tell you that storing your junk in my flat was absolutely out of the question?"

"Well, yes, but..."

"And when I said that, did I not also tell you that if you decided to go against my wishes, I would rain down a pain upon you the likes of which you couldn't even imagine in your dizziest daydreams?"

"Ah, yes, well..."

"And beyond that, did I not also mention my absolute and utter _hatred_ for those who _consistently_ go against my express wishes?"

"Now look, Granger..."

"I will give you to the count of three to come up with a phenomenal excuse as to why I shouldn't hex you both into next Sunday," she said sternly, her hand reaching for her wand.

The twins shared another glance before pouncing, each grabbing an arm before she could reach her wand and dragging her into the empty living room that was currently a mess of overturned furniture, tarps, and paint cans. They sat her on one of the cans, making sure it was an unopened one to avoid angering the witch any more, as George discreetly grabbed Hermione's wand.

"Give us a chance to explain," Fred asked, still a little unsure that confiscating Hermione's wand made them any safer from the brunette's murderous intentions.

"It better be a good explanation," she said flatly.

"Well, firstly, when you said storing our _belongings_ in your flat was out of the question, we thought you were just speaking from that heated place of anger that you very rarely mean to speak from," George started.

"We thought you just needed time to consider it," Fred finished lamely.

"So when I said, 'over my dead body', you just thought I was using hyperbole," she deadpanned, her eyes still burning.

"Yes, well, we considered your seriousness of that _particular_ comment and we decided that killing you just so we could house our things seemed a waste of a brilliant, and - may we say - stunningly _gorgeous_ witch, so we went ahead and exercised our own judgment," Fred said, flashing her a bright smile in the hopes of dimming the dark look she was casting him.

"Remind me again when that's _ever_ worked out for you?" she asked, arching her eyebrow.

"It was only a few boxes, Granger," Fred said. "We were able to get most of them into our old room in the Burrow before Mum came home. The boxes we left at _your_ place hardly cover a foot of space."

"And if the fact that you're upset comes from the fact that we happened to have placed said boxes in your _bedroom_ - "

" - we just figured it was the safest room in the flat."

"What with it being relatively unseen by anyone other than you."

Fred shot his twin a look as Hermione jumped to her feet, seemingly deciding that the absence of her wand was no hindrance and that hand-to-hand combat would have to suffice for the moment. Of course, being significantly shorter and not quite as strong - not to mentioned outnumbered - her quest was fruitless. She was able, however, to get a few choice words in that had George blushing to a color that almost matched his hair.

"Honestly, Granger, we're sorry, but you can't possibly be upset over an itty-bitty foot of space in that luxurious bedroom of yours, can you?" Fred asked.

She gritted her teeth.

"Do you idiots happen to remember what was _in_ those boxes?"

Fred frowned, looking at his twin as George avoided both their eyes.

"I thought they were the spare vials for the store that didn't fit into the storeroom."

"Er...no," George said. "I...er...managed to get those into the storeroom because we went through another box of Ton-Tongue Toffees."

"Well...what boxes did we put in there then?"

George shared a long look with Fred before both of them looked at her, guilty as sin.

"Yes, I know what your little secret is," she said, eyes narrowed. "And that little secret is now _all over my bedroom_!"

"You shouldn't have opened the box," George said stoutly.

"I'm going to kill you," she replied, taking another step toward him before Fred stopped her.

"We're truly sorry, Granger."

"I HAVE PLAYWIZARD MAGAZINES ALL OVER MY BEDROOM AND THE BEST YOU CAN SAY IS 'SORRY'?!" she shouted, completely losing the small grip of self-control she possessed in the first place.

"It was an honest mistake," Fred said. When she narrowed her eyes, he rushed on. "Alright, perhaps not so honest, but nothing a little spell won't clean up."

"I tried a little spell, you morons, and for some reason, it just ends up making the 'models' pose more provocatively."

"Oh yeah, I forgot we put that security spell on that box," George said with a slight chuckle.

"Remember the time Percy found it? Scarred him for life!" Fred chortled.

"Or what about the time when Mum almost..."

"As much as I would love to reminisce about the good times you and your debauched past have brought you, I currently have a bedroom full of Playwizard Magazines and I absolutely refuse to clean them up myself," Hermione interrupted. "So unless you two want me to hit you with a hex that will make the Cruciatus Curse look like a holiday, I trust you will be at my apartment at six o'clock to _clean it up_."

She put her hand out, giving George a pointed look that plainly read 'Give-me-my-wand-now-or-you'll-be-sorry.' The redheaded wizard acquiesced, handing it to him before quickly covering his private bits in a preemptive effort to ensure the survival of any and all offspring he might have in the future.

Hermione's nostrils flared, but she said nothing as she marched back down the stairs, throwing Verity a smile as the blonde held back a laugh. Any opportunity for the Weasley twins to get the arses kicked by the petite woman was an opportunity that Verity enjoyed witnessing.

Slightly calmed in the knowledge that she no longer had to worry about the piles of pictures of writhing bimbos currently holding her bedroom hostage, Hermione decided to head towards Flourish & Blott's to see if they had anything new in the Care of Magical Creatures section for a little light reading. She was about to enter when a hand on her shoulder made her jump, and she turned around, wand at the ready, to face Remus Lupin.

"Um...hello," he said, his eyes flicking from her face to her wand as he seemed torn by amusement and sincere worry.

She quickly lowered her wand.

"Hi," she said with a smile. "Sorry. I was lost in my own head."

"I figured. I said your name at least four times between the twins' place and here, but you just kept on walking. I was trying not to be too insulted," he replied, shooting her his shy half-grin that she admitted made her knees go slightly weak.

"Uh...yes. I've just had some words with the twins. They're redecorating and they put a couple of boxes in my flat against my wishes and the boxes ended up exploding and so..."

A smile tugged at the edge of his lips and she allowed herself a laugh.

"Yes, I know. I shouldn't have expected any less from them, honestly."

"What was in the box?" he asked, holding the door of the establishment open for her and allowing her to enter.

Her face flushed.

"It would seem they left me with their entire Playwizard Magazine collection," she mumbled.

"Their entire what?"

"Playwizard Magazine collection," she said, a little louder than intended and blushing as she received a few curious - albeit disapproving - looks from other patrons.

Remus chuckled.

"Well, I suppose it could have been worse," he said.

She arched her eyebrow.

"Could it? Really?"

He chuckled again.

"No, I guess not."

He followed her silently toward the Magical Creatures section, watching with no small amount of pride as she sniffed disapprovingly at the books that suggested werewolf imprisonment and substandard treatment. He had always admired Hermione's fortitude - especially in the face of insurmountable odds - in her crusade against the injustices of the treatment of magical creatures. She had even worked for a full week with barely any food or rest to re-write the existing werewolf legislation because no one else saw it as a priority. He had a great respect for the young witch.

That, coupled with the fact that he couldn't spend five minutes around her without wondering what she would look like writhing beneath him, made for some very interesting inner monologues while in her presence.

"Not that I'm complaining about your presence, but what brings you to Diagon Alley in the middle of the day?" Hermione asked, pulling Remus from his lecherous thoughts.

"Molly invited me to Ginny's birthday dinner this weekend," Remus explained. "And I was looking to get her a gift."

Hermione arched an eyebrow.

"And you decided to buy it here?" she deadpanned, both of them knowing that - while studious - the youngest Weasley would appreciate a few hundred other things over a book.

"Actually, I was headed toward Fairy Fancies. Wanna help me?" he offered.

Hermione glanced at him, his beautiful amber eyes fixed kindly upon her. Though few knew, Hermione had harbored what she had always considered as a silly schoolgirl crush on the quiet Marauder. She had been certain that the years would cause the crush to dissipate, but after spending a year after graduation working for a pittance at the Ministry and living with him, Sirius, Harry, and Ron in Grimmauld Place, Hermione realized that the schoolgirl crush was beginning to develop into a very _real_, very _womanly_ attraction.

When she caught him toweling his hair as he came out of the shower, his toned body gleaming with beautiful silvery-white scars, that had been the last straw. Unattainable he had been and unattainable he would stay, she decided to remove herself from the sexually-frustrating situation. She came up with an excuse about privacy and feminine mystique and rented an apartment by herself just around the corner from the Ministry.

"I think she was looking for a moonstone bracelet," Hermione said, blushing slightly as she caught herself staring at him.

"I think Ron already got her one," Remus replied, his hand moving naturally to the small of her back, leading her towards the door.

"Oh, that's right," Hermione said, vaguely remembering her ex-boyfriend musing over whether to get his sister a moonstone bracelet or a monogrammed lace-edged handkerchief for her birthday. She was relieved that Tonks – whom he had been dating blissfully for several months – had informed him that a gift that reminded Ginny of mucus would not be as appreciated as a piece of jewelry.

"What about something Quidditch-related?" he asked as they stopped outside Quality Quidditch Supplies. "She starts with the Harpies soon."

"Oh! I know," Hermione said, eyes lighting up, and she grabbed his hand and dragged him into the store. She steered him past a line of eager young second-years toward the Care and Upkeep section.

"I bought Harry a broomstick servicing kit for his thirteenth birthday," she said, her eyes skimming past wood polish and water-repellant sprays. "Ah!" She pulled out a leather case with silver lettering and handed it triumphantly to Remus.

He smiled at her, and her heart skipped a beat.

As they exited the shop, Remus took a deep breath, deciding to do what had taken almost three years for him to get the courage to even consider doing.

"Hermione," he said, his breath catching as her hair caught the light when she turned to him.

"Yes?" she asked, her large hazel eyes looking curiously up at him.

"I…er…I was wondering what you were doing for dinner tonight," he asked.

"Other than supervising the twins in my apartment?" she asked with a laugh.

He chuckled slightly, flushing as he realized she had already told him and in his joy of being in her presence, he had forgotten.

"Oh. Yeah. Um…never mind, then."

She blinked before realizing what he _exactly_ he had asked, and as he started walking again, she caught his arm.

"They're going to be expecting food," she said, looking up into his face with a small amount of hope. "The twins, that is. I was going to make steak and kidney pie. I'm sure there will be plenty if you'd like to join us. Merlin knows I would appreciate another adult with me while I'm trying to keep them from blowing up my boudoir," she added with a laugh.

He smiled.

"I would love to come and help you supervise," he said, bowing slightly.

She smiled.

"How does six-thirty sound?"

"Perfect."

* * *

Hermione panted slightly as she heaved the heavy grocery bags onto her kitchen table after lugging them up four flights of stairs. While she appreciated the workout she got from living in her fourth floor walk-up, she sometimes wished she would stop being so stubborn and hook her fireplace up to the floo network. Her Muggle sensibilities, however, had her doing most things the old-fashioned way, including walking up the stairs to her flat after buying a relatively-ordinary bag of groceries from the local market.

Had it not been for the large gray owl that was tapping on her kitchen window with a letter in its beak, she would have felt positively normal.

Opening the window to let it in, she took the missive and fed him an owl treat. Her own owl, a small beige bird named Sophocles, looked up from his cage with mild interest at the new-comer before turning back to the field mouse he had caught on his hunt the night before. The gray owl hooted gratefully for the treat and nipped fondly at Hermione's hand before flying out of the window again, signaling that there was no need for a response to whatever was in the letter. Hermione watched it fly off before turning to the letter. Her heart sank, however, when she saw one of the twin's untidy scrawl signaling what she could only assume to be incredibly bad news.

'_Dear Hermione,_

_So sorry for the inconvenience, but we will not be able to participate in the Great Granger August Clean-Up. Verity has come down with a very nasty stomach flu, and we are needed at the store._

_We wish to extend to you this gift certificate – redeemable at any of the Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes locations – for the amount of 50 galleons. Please see this as a humble gesture of apology for any grievance we might have caused._

_Yours Sincerely,_

_Fred & George'_

"Oh, I'm going to kill them," Hermione muttered, slamming down the letter and grasping around for her wand, preparing to send them the most scathing howler she could think of. She remembered, however, that Remus was planning on coming to dinner and as much as she would love to spend time with him alone – especially if there were soft surfaces available – she feared that if things _were_ to progress to the point where he saw the inside of her bedroom, the state of it would make him flee.

"Damnit," she grumbled, grabbing a piece of parchment and quickly scribbling a heart-felt apology to her former professor along with reasoning and a half-hearted joke about a promised dismemberment of the twin that force-fed Verity the Puking Pastilles that had inevitably caused her sudden, mysterious stomach ache.

Handing the letter and the howler to Sophocles, she watched her owl fly off into the distant dusk of London before sighing and putting the groceries away. She wasn't a particularly enthusiastic hostess, but she had been looking forward to the evening and – more specifically – someone else cleaning up the mess that was now her responsibility.

Oh yes.

She was going to kill the twins.

* * *

A knock at the door an hour later startled Hermione as she tried to stop herself from focusing too closely on the thousands upon thousands of photos of naked woman who were bearing more than Hermione _ever_ wanted to see in another witch.

She also did not want to imagine just what the twins _did_ while looking at these women.

Brushing an errant strand of hair from her face, Hermione went to the front door, her wand gripped in her hand as she opened it. Her eyes widened and she lowered her wand, however, when she saw Remus, dressed in jeans and a plain gray t-shirt, standing in front of her with his hands in his pockets and his sandy-brown hair falling adorably in his face.

"Remus!" she said, blushing slightly as she realized she was wearing nothing but a thin tank top – no bra – and short shorts. The early-August heat hung heavily in her flat and she hadn't bothered setting up cooling charms yet.

"I…er…thought you might like another set of hands," he said, shooting her that same shy half-smile that made her grip the doorknob just a bit harder to keep herself upright. "Since the twins cancelled on you, and all." He frowned slightly as he sniffed the air. "What's that smell?"

Hermione blushed.

"It's charred paper," she said, stepping aside and allowing him in. "It lingered after the initial explosion." She sighed, looking around. "I've been able to get through a bit of the mess, but this has to be more than just their collection because I'm seeing issues from a time when I _know_ they wouldn't be appreciating the female form yet."

Remus chuckled, following her through the flat toward her bedroom, taking in the small, cozy nature of the modestly-decorated rooms that screamed her personality.

"I mentioned your predicament to Sirius when I got home from Diagon Alley," he said. "Harry told him the twins' collection is something legends are made of. They received issues from Arthur and Bill and Charlie…I wouldn't be surprised if they had issues dating back to the magazine's inception in 1832."

Hermione shot him a coy look.

"And how would _you_ know the magazine started in 1832?" she asked.

He had the good grace to blush.

"Being friends with Sirius Black did have its perks while going through adolescence," he murmured, trying not to maintain eye contact as he knelt beside her and started picking up the magazines.

Hermione tried to hide the irrational jealousy she felt as the pictures blew Remus kisses and posed provocatively for him.

They worked in relative silence, occasionally mentioning something about the heat because in a room full of porn, the weather seemed like the safest topic. Hermione was feeling the level of discomfort slowly rise until she picked up a stack of magazines and in her haste, one fell from the centre of the pile onto the floor. Sighing, she bent down to pick it up and as she did, she glanced at the cover.

Her eyebrows flew to her hairline as she saw what it was.

It was a thick magazine, but not of any of the witches that graced that pages of Playwizard. The photos were definitively provocative, but the models were decidedly male. Moreover, the models were not straight nude, but in costume. Hermione smirked slightly at the rippling muscles on the barely-clothed Robin Hood who graced the cover page under the heading 'Playwitch's Top 10 Sexiest Wizards of 1979'.

Her curiosity pressuring her, Hermione opened to the article, arching an eyebrow at the faded pictures and wondering what on earth the twins were doing with that particular copy of Playwitch. Flipping through each one, she had to admire the taste of whoever had been in charge that year. She especially liked the use of twins for numbers 3 and 2.

Then she turned to number 1.

And she screamed.

Remus hurdled over a pile of magazines and was at her side in two strides as she stared, mouth agape in horror, at a familiar pair of twinkling gray eyes, shaggy black hair, and a set of rippling pectoral muscles that Hermione would have _never_ thought would belong to Sirius Black.

But there he was. Smirking that trademark smirk up at her. In a pirate costume.

And Remus was laughing hysterically.

"Oh I had almost forgotten about this," he said, his eyes bright as he glanced down at the magazine with a smirking shake of the head.

"Did…I…is that…_really_?!" she stuttered, her eyes wide as she looked up at him.

He nodded.

"He and James were short on cash so they both submitted pictures. Lily stormed into the office of Playwitch and demanded that James be removed from their initial list. He was number 5, I believe. You can bet Sirius didn't let him hear the end of it for that one."

"Why on _earth_ haven't we seen this before?" she asked.

"They recalled all the magazines when Sirius was arrested. Said it gave Playwitch a bad name to be celebrating convicts."

Hermione rolled her eyes.

"As if the magazine had a stellar reputation to begin with," she mumbled.

Remus shrugged, looking at the magazine.

"My question is, why do the _twins_ have it?"

She shook her head, unsure of the reason herself and deciding to keep it a mystery because she was certain it would have something to do with Molly. Hermione blinked at the picture again, blushing as the Sirius in the pirate outfit swept into a low bow, flipping his long raven hair back as he came back up with a coy wink in her direction.

"He's so…"

"Young?" Remus finished with a soft smile. Then he sighed, taking the magazine from her fingers and tossing it toward the door so he wouldn't forget it later. "We all were, at one time."

Hermione patted his stomach absently, her brain still on the thigh-high leather boots and the rippling muscles on the nineteen-year-old Sirius's body. Her brain told her to say something comforting rather than absently molesting her former professor's stomach, but upon seeing Sirius's body and feeling the _very_ attractive musculature Remus was hiding under his t-shirt, Hermione found she was unable to form a coherent sentence.

"I think this is an appropriate time as any to take a break," she said, nearly walking into the door frame as her head started to flash images of Remus's head on Sirius's body.

Remus, chuckling at her near-catatonic form, followed her.

"Can I offer you something to drink?" Hermione asked, shaking herself out of her reverie. "I don't have much. Water, lemonade…"

"Not to sound too demanding, but do you have anything stronger?" Remus interrupted.

Hermione smiled in spite of herself.

"I suppose seeing that much of Sirius calls for some of Ogden's finest," she said, summoning over an unopened bottle from a cabinet against the wall. Remus conjured two glasses and sat them on the kitchen table. Hermione poured, and they sat looking at their glasses.

Hermione was the first to break her silence as she started to chuckle. When her chuckles turned into belly-laughs, Remus cocked his head to the side curiously.

"What on earth's so funny?" he asked.

"I'm sorry," she said, wiping tears of mirth from her eyes. "But this just reminded me of the year I spent with Harry and Ron in that bloody tent. Ron always had issues of Playwizard and Harry sometimes needed firewhiskey to sleep, so I was essentially where I am now – surrounded by half-naked men, porn and alcohol."

Remus laughed, shaking his head at the antics of the two boys despite the fact that they had all been living in mortal peril for the majority of that year.

"You three were truly magnificent that year," he said, swirling his whiskey around before taking a sip. "You did something that most grown wizards would gape at doing, all at the age of 17. You amazed me. You amazed us all."

She smiled slightly, looking down at her glass.

"Well, some of those times were better than others," she said before downing the glass.

He didn't want to know and she was not going to volunteer, but the discomfort of the past hour dissolved quickly in the light of their intimate camaraderie.

"Alright," Hermione said, charming the glasses to the sink and banishing the whiskey back to its cupboard. "Back to it, then."

The mood in the room was considerably lighter upon their return, and the next hour was spent fairly unproductively as they feigned an active attempt at cleaning while joking about the women and starting a running commentary over the organic quality of the body parts the women were baring.

"Now, the breasts on this woman cannot possibly be 100% natural. They are absolutely huge," Hermione said as she let go of the pretense of straightening up and plopped down on the floor, leaning back against the foot of her bed as she flipped through a magazine. Remus, curious as to which witch she was treating to a eagle-eyed critique, sat down next to her, brushing his hands off on his jeans as he leaned over for a closer look.

"I don't know," he said, tilting his head. "There was this girl we went to school with who _definitely_ had ones that big. They used to call her 'Jiggling Johanna' because they moved whenever she did, and even when she didn't."

Hermione chuckled, shaking her head.

"Alright, I grant you that it's _possible_ for a woman's breasts to be that big _naturally_, but it's clearly not the case here. If they were natural, the would _definitely_ not be this perky. She's definitely done some magical enhancements. Not to mention some incredible trick photography to hide the size of her pores."

Remus chuckled as the model, infuriated by their line of discussion, tossed her hair indignantly and stormed out of the picture. Hermione sighed, tossing the magazine lazily toward the box she had brought in after Remus convinced her that destroying the collection would be a travesty against the male wizarding population. Both she and Remus went to reach for another magazine, and their fingers brushed against each other, causing Hermione to blush.

"I never took you as someone who made a close study of other women," Remus said as he allowed Hermione to pick up the magazine, scooting closer to her so he could look as well.

Hermione shrugged.

"I wasn't. Then, after the war and all the craziness of the publicity started, I found that my face was everywhere and everyone seemed to have an opinion about my appearance. I'm not one for make-up and designer clothes – which pissed Ron off for awhile, let me tell you – but I did realize that going out in public with my hair looking like it's about to jump off my head to attack small children was not the way to get people to stop talking about me."

Remus chuckled as he glanced up at her hair. It was true that there was a certain intimidating factor to the mess of curls, but he couldn't help but find that they just added to her appeal. There had been many a night when he had fallen asleep to images of his hands buried in those curls, kissing her deeply or just running his hands through them as she lay on his lap, nose in a book.

"Then there were the pictures that came out after Ron and I broke up," she continued, gazing with a small measure of jealousy at the women on the pages. "I was almost ready to become a hermit after that. They caught me from every possible horrible angle imaginable. I guess it was then that I started paying more attention to the way other people look – specifically other women." She sighed, closing the magazine and looking at him. "Though, it always boggled me that women would go out of their way to look like this. Men aren't really attracted to this, are they?"

Remus flushed slightly.

"Some are," he admitted. "I think the attraction lies more with the younger wizards who are told that these girls are the standard of sexual beauty. Personally, I never thought much of them."

A smile tugged at her lips.

"No, I suppose you're a bit above the girls in these magazines."

He chuckled.

"Don't get me wrong – when Sirius dated all the girls from the 1980 Playwizard Calendar I was a little jealous – but I think that had more to do with the fact that he dated twelve girls in three months and I hadn't had anyone in…well…longer than that." He bit his lip as he thought exactly _how_ long it had been since he had had sex, but pushed the thought from his mind. "I don't like the same type of women Sirius does, anyway, so I suppose it's good that he's the one who gets all the women that look like they could pose for Playwizard."

Hermione looked at him for a moment before grabbing her wand. She flicked her wrist and a dozen magazines flew over to her, landing on her lap in a neat pile. She flicked her wand over to the door, and a few seconds later Remus saw a blank sheet of parchment and a roll of Spello-tape float into the room.

"What are you doing?" he asked when she opened one of the magazines and started to look critically at the models.

"We're going to play a game," she said. "We'll call it 'Cut and Paste' for lack of a better title."

He arched an eyebrow.

"And what is the object of this game?"

"To guess what your ideal woman looks like."

He blinked.

"To guess what _my_ ideal woman looks like?" he repeated.

"Yes. You said you don't go for the type of women in these magazines. So I'm going to construct the type of woman I think you would go for. And I'll use body parts from these magazines."

He laughed.

"What makes you so sure that you can guess?"

"Oh, I'm not. But it's much more fun than picking up these silly magazines and I _am_ curious as to the type of woman that interests our resident lycanthrope." She tousled his hair playfully before turning back to the magazines. "Maybe I can send the picture to Molly and she can find someone for you. She has a habit of playing matchmaker."

He smiled wryly.

"You do, and I'll tell her that you wouldn't mind meeting up with Kissing Cousin Kenny again," he countered.

Her eyes narrowed.

"You wouldn't."

He smirked.

"Don't test me, little witch."

She huffed, but gave a small smile as she started working on Remus's ideal woman as the werewolf stood and continued to clear up the rest of the magazines around her. Every few moments he would glance her way, his heart beating just a little faster at the focused look in her eye. He remembered – as her professor – seeing that look in his classes and even back then he knew that Hermione Granger was a definite intellectual force to be reckoned with.

It had taken him awhile to stop thinking of her as his formal pupil, especially after she moved into Grimmauld Place with them. She would flounce about in shorts and shirts that highlighted every curve she possessed and had Sirius not made several inappropriate comments – as he was wan to do when a pretty witch was about – Remus would have felt almost pedophilic when his heart sped up and his body reacted to her presence.

"Alright," she said. "How's this?"

Remus walked over and chuckled at the sight of the woman in front of him.

He had to admit that Hermione gave him fairly good taste. The woman was blonde, slim, with small, perky breasts and long legs. Her eyes were narrowed with womanly sensuality and covered in a pair of glasses – which Remus took to mean that Hermione expected him to fall for the bookish sort.

Not entirely out of the realm of reason, considering who he happened to be attracted to.

"Not bad," he said, flicking his wand and sending the body parts back to their respective witches. "But not my ideal."

She arched an eyebrow.

"No?" He shook his head and helped her to her feet as she picked up the stack of magazines and put them in the box. "Then what's your ideal witch?"

He smiled slightly and, for the second time that day, decided to do something that he had spent years trying to talk himself out of doing. Reaching in his back pocket, he pulled out a picture – worn, but still visible – and handed it to her.

"She's my ideal witch," he whispered.

Hermione was speechless as she looked at a picture of herself. She remembered him taking it and smiled at the memory. It had been the day she moved out of Grimmauld Place. Harry and Ron were heaving boxes from the Muggle truck – it had been her decision to move the "hard way" so as not to cause suspicion to the other tenants of her new building – and she had been standing in the street directing them where to put everything. Her hair was up, but as per usual, several strands had escaped from her elastic.

But the way the camera had caught her, she looked almost angelic.

She vaguely remembered hearing the snap of the shutter, but she had been so distracted with worry that Ron would drop one of the boxes that held her precious potion ingredients that by the time she had looked up, Remus had already put the camera to the side and was helping Sirius carry a box from the truck. She had thought nothing of it until that moment, looking at the picture, she realized that his eyes had been on her nearly the entire time.

"You've kept this with you all this time?" she asked.

He smiled slightly, taking it back from her.

"Yes," he admitted. "And I know perhaps this isn't the best time, Hermione, but I'd really like to…"

He found himself silenced by her lips on his.

Hermione closed her eyes as she kissed the older man, standing on tip-toe to reach his face. It had taken all of two seconds for her to come to the decision to make the first move, but when her lips had touched his, she knew that regardless of what happened after she pulled away, she would not regret her initiative.

Remus was slowly floating up to seventh heaven as he coiled his arms around her waist, pulling her closer to him as he slanted his mouth over hers. Her tongue dueled gently with his, tasting him curiously but teasing him coyly at the same time. It felt so _right_ to hold her in his arms; to kiss her like he was a man dying of thirst and she was his life source.

It felt like it was meant to be.

She let out a contented sigh as she deepened the kiss even more, her breasts pressing into his chest as she sought closer contact, the need to be near him, with him, one with him, overwhelming her senses. She ran her hand through his hair, reveling at the softness of the silky sandy-brown strands. She tugged his head down, pulling him closer, as she started to sink to the floor.

He followed willingly, ignoring the fact that they were surrounded by several dozen pairs of eyes and on top of quite a few magazines. As Hermione allowed his body to roll on top of hers, she couldn't care less that her body was pinned to the August 1983 issue of Playwizard, or that the redhead posing provocatively with a broomstick was trying to poke her with the wooden handle. All she cared about was that she was lying beneath the strong, handsome body of the man she had fantasized about for years.

When he finally pulled back, his amber eyes were glittering with unrestrained desire. Cheeks flushed and hair wild from the impassioned snog, Hermione gazed back at him, sure that her eyes conveyed an equal amount of heat. As he brought his hand to her face, she nuzzled into his palm, her tongue darting out to take a sensual lick of his inner wrist.

"Hermione," he said huskily, shifting his lower body and causing her to groan as his budding erection made contact with the apex of her thighs. "I think we should probably take this a bit slower…"

"Do _you_ want to take this slow, Remus?" she interrupted, wrapping her legs around him and rolling her hips under his, causing him to groan. "Because I have thought about this moment for so long that if we _were_ to take it slow, I would probably explode in whirl of sexual frustration."

He grinned, and her breath caught in her throat. It wasn't the shy half-grin that made her body shudder and her knees weak. This grin was a sexy, knowing half-smirk that sent all the blood in her body pooling to her core as her nipples hardened at the sight of him.

He leaned down, brushing his lips over the shell of her ear.

"We wouldn't want you to explode, would we?" he whispered before nipping her earlobe.

In response, Hermione ran her hands under the soft gray cotton t-shirt that had been slowly driving her insane all night. When her fingers made contact with the hard muscles underneath, it took all her will power not to rip the cloth off his body in her frenzy to gaze upon his lithe beauty. When they had removed it, she growled slightly, taking in the broad shoulders, the hard planes of muscle, and the soft trail of sandy-brown hair that led from his navel into his jeans. She was like a child in a candy store – everything looked so good and she wasn't sure where to start first.

Remus, however, refused to hover above her idly. His lips descended upon her neck and soon she forgot everything – including her own name for a few seconds – as his lips nipped and sucked at her sensitive flesh while his fingers danced sensually up her shirt. He groaned when he came into contact with her unrestrained breasts, his fingers caressing her nipples before pulling back to pull the tank top off her body.

"Oh…Remus…" she moaned as his lips descended upon her collarbone, and she ran her hands through his hair as his tongue traced a path to her breasts. She cried out, arching her back, as he took a nipple into his hot mouth, running his tongue around it and suckling while his hand ran up her side, fondling the neglected breast.

He pulled back, the nipple leaving his lips with a soft 'pop,' and he looked down at her. His cock jumped as he saw the flush of her face and the soft, puffy, moist lips that were slightly parted as she looked at him through hooded eyes. It had been so long since a woman looked at him like that – with such unbridled desire – that the wolf within him reared, demanding that he ravish her that instant.

The man in him, however, knew exactly what he was doing as he lowered his head to drop a soft, lingering kiss upon those full, wet cushions of lips before tonguing his way to her other breast, enjoying the way her fingers curled into his hair as he took the nipple into his mouth, laving it with the same attention he had shown the other one.

Hermione arched her back, her fingers twining into the strands of Remus's hair as he did wicked things with his mouth. She wouldn't have called herself a particularly _experienced_ witch in terms of carnal pleasure, but she knew enough to know that her body was reacting in a way it had _never_ reacted before in a sexual situation. Remus's caress, his lips, his very presence, was doing things to her body that made her want him inside her with a deep ache she had not felt before.

Building up her focus, Hermione rolled them over, the redheaded witch she had been laying on glaring murder at her as Remus fell on his back, covering some other cover girl without paying a single shred of attention to it. The movement removed him from her breasts, but she claimed his lips with her own, running her hands down the rugged edges of his muscles to unbuckle his belt and unbutton his jeans.

As her hands teased his naval, unbuttoning the denim with slow, taunting fingers, Remus allowed his hands to splay over her waist, running them down into her shorts and underwear and squeeze the firm, gorgeous globes that had been the center of his focus whenever he had watched her walk up stairs. His fingers itched to move around to the front of her shorts and rid her of the scrap of fabric that had been cruelly teasing him all night.

She pulled away from his lips, gasping for breath as she settled herself on his hips, her fingers itching along the waistband of his briefs. Drawing his hands from her shorts, he slid around to the front, unbuttoning the top and inching the zipper down before splaying his hand over her stomach and sliding it into the soft cotton underwear she wore beneath.

"Shit!" she hissed as his fingers found her nub, making sensual circles around it before gently thrusting a digit within her hot, wet body. She gasped, arching her back as she rolled her hips against his hand, his finger moving slowly as his thumb grazed her clit again. He licked his lips as he felt how tight she was and how ready she seemed for him.

He had waited for far too long to rush this experience, but she had other plans as she shucked her shorts and underwear and straddled his legs, tugging at his jeans and briefs. He acquiesced, lifting his body and he soon found himself stark naked under her hungry eyes, his cock standing at attention just inches from her wet heat.

"Remus," she whispered, her eyes raking over him before settling on his face. "I want you inside me."

He grinned wickedly.

"I'm not complaining, beautiful," he replied coyly.

His grin disappeared, however, when she sank herself upon his length, impaling her body on his thick erection and moaning loudly as she adjusted to his size. Remus sucked in a long breath, his stomach quivering at the sensation of being buried to the hilt within her tight, wet sheath. He had to think of anything – _anything_ – aside from the fact that he was inside the woman of his dreams and about to make love to her for the first time.

"You feel so good, baby," she moaned, lifting herself a fraction before sliding back down, running her hands up her body and cupping her breasts, pinching her nipples as she started to ride him. His hands slid up her legs, splaying over the curve of her waist and guiding her as she rolled her body on top of his, letting her head fall back as sensations clouded her mind.

Hermione felt both wanton and exhilarated as they moved together, both unfazed by the way their coupling had drawn the unblinking attention of every model on every magazine in the room. She had no doubt they were a beautiful sight – she, soft and curvy, riding him, strong and rugged, with a reckless abandon – and the thought that they fit together so well made her groan.

They moved together for several moments, the only sounds on the air being her soft mews of pleasure and his short grunts as every twist of her body had his nerves thrumming with desire. The pace, however, was maddeningly slow. Hermione gripped his hands, trying to move faster, but finding her body was starting to be overwhelmed by the pleasure that her movements were erratic and somewhat chaotic.

Remus let his hands rest on her hipbone as he rolled them over again, his hips falling heavily into hers, causing her to cry out as he slid deeper into her. He hiked a leg up, gripping it as he started to rock himself hard into her, picking up speed as the fingers on his free hand intertwined with hers, pushing her hand above her head as he lengthened his thrusts.

"Remus…oh God…faster…" she whispered to him, her eyes drifting closed as he removed his hand from her leg to grasp her other hand, intertwining their fingers before he pushed it over her head to join her other hand, effectively pinning her to the floor.

He grunted as he thrust faster, his back flexing and relaxing as his body moved harder against hers, the wolf within him seeking completion. She arched her back, her breasts bared to him, and he leaned down to lick a straining nipple, relishing the breathless moan of pleasure she gave as their movements started to climb that last, mind-bending build.

"Sweet Merlin, you feel amazing," he breathed, burying his head in the crook of her neck and inhaling her scent, trying to imprint this moment in his mind forever. Regardless of the outcome, this night would be stitched indelibly upon his soul and his conscience for the rest of his life.

"Oh…fuck…" she gasped, her eyes flying open as he thrust hard, hitting that elusive spot that had been previously unexplored. She struggled against his hands and when she gave a particularly hard twist, he grasped her leg with one hand as the other went to her hair, tugging her up to meet his lips in a fiery passion.

"Don't stop," she breathed, curling into his body as her arms flew around his neck. "So…close…"

"Let it go," he whispered, thrusting harder and faster at the angle that had her toes curling and her body panting. "I want to feel you, 'Mione."

Her back arched and she let out a long, loud cry as her body gave in to her orgasm. Hermione had never felt such a strong wave of pleasure before, and she clawed at anything within reach as the push and pull of Remus's cock set off fireworks within her body. All of her senses were tingling on overdrive. She could smell the mixture of their sweat and their sex; taste the sweetness his lips had left lingering on hers; see the light burning in his amber eyes, and hear his short pants as he approached his peak.

She could feel his muscles tense as he succumbed to his pleasure.

Remus cried out as his stomach tensed, tugging her hair and burying his face in her neck as his hips jerked, his cock twitching as he came hard. He spilled his seed deep within her, his arms coiling around her body and pulling her tightly to him as his muscles continued to tense and relax in the aftermath of such extreme pleasure. He gave soft thrusts before fatigue overcame him and he collapsed on top of her. He had never felt such intense pleasure in his entire life, and he knew he had found something in Hermione that he would never find with anyone else.

No words were needed as they rolled to their sides and she curled into his larger body, her curves pressed softly against him as he ran his fingers through her hair. He felt her lips curl into a smile as he drew her closer; the same lips pressing small butterfly kisses along his neck and collarbone several minutes later until he looked down into her large hazel eyes.

"Hello, beautiful," he whispered, kissing the tip of her nose affectionately.

"Hello," she replied, her eyes still looking adoringly up at him. "I think we should move to the bed. What do you think?"

He chuckled.

"And disappoint our audience?" he joked, motioning to all the magazines. Several of the models were fanning themselves while others were flushed red, their hands covering their eyes as their modesty prevailed.

Hermione let out a laugh.

"You'd think – with all the masturbating they see – that a little love-making wouldn't affect them."

Remus grinned.

"Regardless, I don't think they're ever going to be the same again."

She smirked.

"It would serve Fred and George right if the models refused surface in their pictures for fear of what they might see."

"Speaking of which," Remus said, digging under his back and pulling out a magazine. "I don't think Fred and George will appreciate knowing that we made love _on top_ of their magazines."

A slow, Cheshire cat grin appeared on Hermione's face as she looked at the magazine Remus was holding.

"I don't think Fred and George are the only ones who didn't appreciate it," she said, and Remus looked up to see Sirius – his pirate hat askew – glaring at him.

"I don't suppose I'll be able to taunt Sirius now," Remus said with a chuckle, tossing the magazine in a random direction. "I don't have a reasonable-enough excuse as to why his younger self is scowling."

Hermione chuckled, sighing as she looked around the room.

"Who would have thought such fantastic sex would come out of porn?" she asked.

Remus smirked.

"It's not from the porn," he said, grasping for his jeans and pulling out his wand. With a flick of his wrist, the remaining magazines – including the ones they were laying on top of – flew to the box and settled themselves neatly within. Another flick had the magazines that had been blown apart by the initial explosion righting themselves before following their brethren into their cardboard house.

Hermione looked at Remus in wonder.

"How did you do that?" she asked. "They didn't do that when I tried earlier."

He grinned.

"It just needed a man's touch. See?" he pointed to where the Playwitch Magazine sat in stubborn immobility. "Try banishing that to the box."

Hermione took Remus's wand from him and banished the magazine. It listened straight away, falling neatly on top of the others. Another flick of the wand had the box sealing itself and moving into an unused corner.

"Remind me to thank the twins someday," she said, putting his wand down and settling back against his body.

"_Thank_ them?" he asked with a chuckle.

She looked up at him.

"For the indecent exposure," she said, her eyes starting to gleam with barely-restrained desire as they raked up and down his body. "And indecent it certainly is." She leaned in and nipped his lip. "Indecently amazing."

He chuckled, nuzzling his head into her neck as his hands roamed her smooth skin. There was no question about it – Hermione Granger was the woman for him. And as he sank himself once more into her mewling body, he knew that he, too, would have to thank the Weasley twins for canceling.

Even if it _had_ been at his request.

But as she moaned, he smiled as he realized that she didn't need to know that.

* * *

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